Contributor: Jenne Lee - - Cheyenne twisted the golden band around her finger, its emerald jewel glistening under the florescent lights of the freezing cold morgue. The sterile sent of cleaning supplies lingered with the metallic taste of blood as Stephanie continued scrubbing the metal counters while Declan sewed up their latest project. “I finished closing up the John Doe,” said Declan after he scrubbed his hands at the sink. “Is there anything else, Dr. Osiris?” Cheyenne shook her dark curls. “No, Declan. That’s all for tonight.” “Are you sure you don’t need any more help with the exhumed body?” Stephanie asked. The doctor looked across the room at the corpse covered by the white sheet. It was a special request by a private client. She wanted to handle this on her own. “I’ll be fine.” She gave her medical assistants a smile...

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Author: Jenne Lee

Contributor: Brian Armour - - `In the brevity, was there capacity for colour, detail, familiarity, understanding or warmth in the progress, the structure, the bones - the necessities of function that need remain?’ considered Dr Eric Siedbet walking down the empty underground platform. He surveyed the grime besmirched cavern-like walls against which his steps echoed. Screaming, twisted metal heralded the contorted misshapen first carriage filling the tunnel entry propelled by derailed carriages behind. Freed of the restrictions of the tunnel, a carriage leapt, side onto the platform and jammed against the wall wiped it clean, of advertising, furniture, signage, some grime, some soot and Eric Siedbet. On the opposite platform, Jason saw events unfolding and dived for cover inside a stairway as metal and glass exploded into the space....

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Author: Brian Armour

Contributor: Jeanelle Nicole Driver - - I can’t focus on the memories, shifting and swirling in an incomprehensible fog. My mind’s eye clouded by worries and doubt. I am a stranger in my own mind. I reach for still frames, snapshots, times when the world looked bright and carefree. Why is it all but lost to me now? Why can’t I break free? This room is a cage, set up for my own protection… “Where are you at, Alexis?” my sister said. Her voice sounded tinny and far away, her touch but a shadow in my thoughts. “Don’t bother me, Diana,” I said. “It doesn’t matter now.” I heard her sigh and flop down on the bed. “Oh, please, not this again.” I scooted away from her warmth and opened my eyes. She would never understand, could never understand. “You act like you’re the one suffering,” I said. “Why won’t you leave me in peace?” She...

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Author: Jeanelle Nicole Driver

Contributor: Anna Philpot - - Lorraine watched her daughter’s hiking boots inch further over the cliff’s edge. Cass turned, pushing her thick, dark hair, polished mahogany, from her cheek. She sipped from her water bottle, then hurled it into the ravine. Pebbles spit down the rock face and Cass’s feet slid forward. Lorraine yelped as her hand snaked around her daughter’s arm, pulling her back. “I’m done,” Cass whispered. “You couldn’t know you and Jeremy both carried the gene. The chances are one in over 1,600 for crying out loud! Cassie, you’re a scientist. You understand probability.” Lorraine shook her daughter until Cass’s head snapped back and Lorraine looked into her daughter’s tear-glaze eyes. “ Jeremy was going to leave,” Cass said, eyes flashing defiantly. “Leave me to deal with Angela’s dying. He told me so. But she...

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Author: Anna Philpot

Contributor: Jerry Guarino - - Julie walked in with her laptop case over her shoulder. Her long brown hair pulled through a crimson velvet scrunchy, draped behind her blue blazer, over the cranberry cardigan sweater, over the white oxford, accented by the Harvard tie which went with the plaid, pleated skirt that highlighted the knee socks which sat atop the cordovan clogs. In short, she was the dream girl of every code savvy programmer in Cambridge. “Hi, my name is Julie Bowen.” “Hi Julie, I’m Zach” said the college sophomore in jeans and t-shirt. Zach was one of those code savvy programmers, working a part time job in the hopes of meeting girls like Julie. He wasn’t a bad looking guy, just not in the same league as Julie, sort of like your company softball team versus the Red Sox. “Hi Zach.” At this point, Zach could...

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Author: Jerry Guarino

Contributor: Michael White Giant centipedes terrify me. Giant centipedes have always terrified me. It might have a little to do with their many legs or their mini eyes or maybe those two horn-like things, which sometimes curl back to look like a gentleman’s mustache. Whatever it is about giant centipedes, which continue to terrify me even now, my greatest fear, my strangest fear, this outrageous fear in me is that someday I will turn into one. I know this to be an illogical fear. But if you, like me, had way back seen a giant centipede tear a snake in two, then you, like me, might be afraid of the bastards too. And maybe if you had been bitten by said snake and paralyzed by said snake and forced to watch said snake be torn in two, you, like me, might have experienced a giant centipede crawl about you with its many legs, look about...

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Author: Michael White

Contributor: Donal Mahoney - - In the summer of 1956, any Saturday at midnight, especially when the moon was out and the stars were bright, you would be able to see Grandma Groth sitting on her front-porch swing waiting for her son, Clarence, a bachelor at 53, to make it home from the Blind Man's Pub. He would have spent another evening quaffing steins of Heineken's. Many times that summer before I went away to college, I'd be strolling home at midnight from another pub, just steps behind staggering Clarence. But unlike Clarence, I’d be sober so I'd always let him walk ahead of me and I'd listen to him hum "The Yellow Rose of Texas." Sometimes, very quietly, I’d join in. I don’t think he ever heard me. However, on the last Saturday night that Clarence and I came down the street in our odd tandem, I didn't see Grandma on her swing...

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Author: Donal Mahoney

Contributor: Andrew Vrana - - I was there this morning as the sun peeked coyly through steel mountains, standing in the incessant line like so many mornings before, taking step after mindless step to carry myself ever closer to those automatic doors that have an appetite for the chronically mundane. I had to step carefully: I could not encroach upon the body in front of me nor let the one behind get too close. We had to move as one droning entity to keep up the desired illusory order. Before the sun showed me its full face, I was inside, shivering against the bitter cold and feeling naked in the filthy glow of artificial lighting. I was much more conspicuous once inside; the guards on either side of the door sneered at me through faceless helmets. As the doors shut behind me, I gave the tiniest of twitches and shifted my eyes nervously,...

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Author: Andrew Vrana

Contributor: Jerry Guarino - - Joseph had a successful insurance business out of his home, a wonderful son and a marriage that had become more platonic than romantic, the only real frustration in his life. He had been tempted before in his 15-year marriage. Sales trips for a computer company and out of town trade shows provided plenty of easy opportunities for infidelity, but he stayed true to his marriage vows. He gave up technology to work at home, to spend more time with his son. He coached him in soccer and helped him with homework after school. The upper middle class soccer moms smiled at him as they dropped off and picked up their boys for practice and games. But Joseph stayed true to his marriage vows, satisfied with fantasizing about the thirty-something lovelies in his small New England town north of Boston. ...

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Author: Jerry Guarino

Contributor: J.C. Jackson - - Soup “Soup or salvation?” she said. “Beg your pardon?” He glanced around the room. A few old men sipped coffee and scanned the local paper. Dust drifted through the sunlight escaping the aluminum blinds like glitter in a snow globe. Fluorescent lights buzzed sporadically and an ancient window unit rattled behind a glass display full of Payday, Zagnut, Camel, and Lucky Strike. “You want the soup?” she said. “Or would you prefer an eternity spent in the bosom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ?” He looked at the laminated menu on the counter. A quarter-sized stain, probably soup, had crusted over at the top of the menu and abbreviated a part of the block text centered there. ALIFORNIA LUNCH ROOM F OF SCENIC HWY 49 NEAR SUTTER CREEK NG GOD AND GREAT FOOD FOR 25 YEARS! “I’ll give you a sec,” she said, and...

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Author: J.C. Jackson

Contributor: Elizabeth Collins - - Once upon a time there was an artist. His name was Mikey and he lived near the heat vents on 33rd and Maple. Mikey was an origami master and could make anything and everything out of stray newspapers or fliers. “How do you do it?” One tourist asked as Mikey handed him a replica of Mt. Rushmore. “I’m not sure. My mama never showed me, and my pa only had one hand!” Mikey chuckled, showing off his seven magnificent teeth. “You have to do something with this! The world has to know!” The tourist took out his smartphone, and with a crazed look in his eye he started recording himself talking about the homeless wonder who was to become an internet sensation. Mikey muttered to himself, “Sure, sure. Millions of views. Ahuh.” He put on his origami Napoleon hat, strapped his origami fanny pack around his...

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Author: Elizabeth Collins

Contributor: Jerry Guarino - - A great donut (yes, this is how I spell it) is like a great marriage. Really. Let me explain. The best donuts have two components, not that a basic donut isn’t wonderful. Donuts should be filled with fruit, cream or other sweet ingredients. The outside of the donut is the protector, the guardian or in our analogy, the groom. The inside is the essence of the donut. Raspberry, cream and apple fillings make the donut come alive, leave a lasting impression on the palate and provide the love, or the bride. The groom is a wonderful man, but most of the attention on the wedding day is paid to the bride. When you love a donut, it’s the filling that you remember, not the dough, as indispensible as it is. There are two major donut franchises in the U.S., one great one you can find in 49 states...

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Author: Jerry Guarino

Contributor: Leonard Treman - - I was the world's greatest financial mind. I had 300,000,000,000 dollars in the bank. I had created “Immortality,” the first stem cell pharmaceutical company to take ten years off. I finally was married to a woman named Jane Berber at the age of 33. The only problem was 12 hours after the marriage she'd filed for divorce. We were married and no sooner had the wedding night passed then did she disappear and send her lawyers. It became clear quickly, the love of my life wanted half of my fortune to spend with the love of her life. I sat in the chair and stared at the wall. How could I be duped? I, the richest and therefore presumably the most powerful man in the world. It then hit me. What about the globalization project? That bitch was going to take 150,000,000 ,000 dollars from the poorest nations...

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Author: Leonard Treman

Contributor: Anthony Mullinix - - “General, Sir, I believe we may have a problem,” he said. “What kind of problem, Lieutenant?” I asked. “The kind that will need some sort of clean-up crew, Sir.” What a smart-ass. Why else would my Command and Control center call me at this hour? Looking up at the monitors revealed the truth to his statements. The man that found it looked pudgy and unkempt. Our instruments are light-years ahead of his, but that didn’t really matter since he somehow managed to find it. This isn’t the kind of wake-up I expected. “Who do we have available?” “I asked who was available, not who wasn’t. Don’t waste my time. Understood?” “Understood Sir. We only have one team,” he said, stacking his initial set of papers off to side leaving a singular piece for me to view. No. Not the kind of wake-up call I expected. “Not...

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Author: Anthony Mullinix

Contributor: Brandon Mc Ivor - - "People live in Port-of-Spain all their lives—maybe they go Maracas on weekends—and they think they know Trinidad," says my father. The groundskeeper laughs as he puts the $20 bill my father slipped him into his back pocket. "They don't know Trinidad," he says, "This is Trinidad." We are standing on a mountaintop in Tortuga Village. Behind us, Our Lady of Montserrat is cradling her child and looking out into the distance. The sun is sinking into a sea of rolling elephant grass on the Gulf of Paria. "Trinidad small," says the groundskeeper, "But some people feel it tiny—like it have nothing here at all." "But it have this, though," I say. The groundskeeper smiles, bows his head. He turns away from us and brushes a cobweb from his statue’s shawl. "He leaving for America," says my father, gesturing towards...

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Author: Brandon Mc Ivor

Contributor: Jerry Guarino - - Hannah could have had an easy life. She could have spent her days with charitable causes or artistic pursuits. She could have been free to write or paint. If only she had chosen Richard or Ben. Their devotion and money was the type of temptation that many women would be satisfied with, but Hannah was less conventional. A modern flower girl in looks and dress, with a contemporary liberal arts education, she had borrowed her parent’s idealism and combined it with her grandparent’s pragmatism. She was everything an accomplished man might want as his mate, a partner with values, intelligence and beauty. But we all know that it isn’t the man who chooses the woman. Richard didn’t know that. Neither did Ben. As successful as they were, there was one area of life, they couldn’t control. Finding...

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Author: Jerry Guarino